Julie Pitzel has been a receptionist, radio DJ,
bill collector, telemarketer, administrative assistant, community college
instructor, and an expediter (aka professional nag). She’s been involved in the
Houston writing community for many years including two years as President of a
local Romance Writers of America Chapter. She writes paranormal fiction from a
geodesic dome south of Houston, where she lives with her husband and a pair of
cats. This is her fourth appearance in Heart’s
Kiss.

YOU READ THAT?

Genre Shaming and How to Deal With It

by Julie Pitzel

Never allow
anyone to shame you for what you read.

After a
panel at the local comic con, I asked one of the other attendees what they
liked to read. She replied with an embarrassed wince and an apologetic
expression. I knew instantly that someone had ridiculed her reading choices.

All fiction
genres have their critics. Some people don’t like mysteries or think science
fiction is too technical. Others can’t get behind the
ordinary-man-saves-the-world trope of a thriller. Literary fiction is sometimes
described as having all the excitement of bellybutton lint. Suspense and horror
are just too dark or gory for certain individuals.

I get it,
we all get it—different people like different types of stories. Genre shaming
isn’t about whether someone dislikes secret-baby romances or dystopian YA’s. It’s
about someone saying “I don’t like them, and you shouldn’t like them either,”
and then going on to insult the reader. Of all the genres, YA and Romance get
the biggest brunt of these attacks.

I’ve seen
articles indicating that young adult stories should only be read by young
adults. Anyone over the age of eighteen who finds enjoyment in teenage dramas
or coming of age adventures should put those stories down immediately and find
suitable adult fiction. Preferably something with a “big” message and an
ambiguous ending. They believe stories written for “children” don’t have the
complexity of plot, nuanced characters, or beautifully constructed sentences of
“adult” literature (Piffle!). One article stated that adults should be
embarrassed to read YA’s.

Embarrassed?
Nope, nope, nope! Be embarrassed when your child tells the world they ate a
booger, you trail toilet paper out of the bathroom on your shoe, or you
discover your zipper was down during a presentation. Don’t be embarrassed that
you enjoy a good story simply because the target audience is younger than your
physical years.

Where do I
start with the insults for romance? Romance fiction is frequently called mommy
porn because it has “S.E.X.” (whispered behind a shielding hand) and so it must
be pornographic and slutty, and shame on you if you enjoy reading it. I’ve
heard that—a lot. It’s different when sex appears in literature, but
then few romance novels are nominated for the Bad Sex in Fiction Award.
Of course we’re also told that romance is not realistic. The feisty historical
women of romance are pure fantasy, and couldn’t have existed during that time
period (any time period—the detractors never do any research because they always
know). Boudica and Joan of Arc are flukes of history, in their minds.

Critics
insist that romance fiction is anti-feminism because everyone knows a
romance heroine is just waiting for a hero to solve her problems and then
ravage her. These days the heroine is as likely to ride to the rescue as the
hero. One psychologist stated that reading romance fiction was bad for women
because it gives us an unrealistic view of relationships. She suggested that
women who read the genre were making decisions based on an idealized version of
romance (because we obviously don’t know what the term “fiction” means). But
other psychologists assign romances to their clients, male and female, to help
them with relationship issues.

There
should be no shame in reading stories that have Happily Ever Afters. It doesn’t
matter if the pages are filled with sex and lust or are sweet enough to read
out loud to your mother’s church group. And if the men and women reading
romance want their own Happily Ever Afters (or at least good sex), how is that
a bad thing?

So what do
you do when someone questions your reading choices or tries to shame you? I’ve
listed a few possible responses below.

Let it go: Some
people are content to issue an insult and go on their way—drive-by dissing.
Others thrive on getting a reaction; they want to see you squirm. Usually the
best response is to just smile and walk away. A lack of reaction will bother
them more than any reasoned explanation. Your time is better spent reading.

A good
offense: It doesn’t matter what you’re reading, some people will question
its value and imply you are less for reading it. If avoiding the conflict isn’t
possible, don’t fall into the rabbit hole of defending your choice. The
detractor won’t care that AARP members read YA and middle-grade books, they won’t
believe stories of truckers buying a dozen romances a month, and they won’t
understand the artistry of a graphic novel. Instead, turn the conversation back
on them. “What do you like to read?” or “Wow, I’ve never read Nietzsche. What
would you recommend as an introduction?”

Chances are
your response will surprise them. Maybe by asking their preferences and
recommendations, you can start a conversation. Hopefully they’ll begin to
understand that one type of story isn’t better or worse than another. They may
never accept your choices, but it could be a start.

Bullies are
bullies are bullies: A coworker and his buddies would often ask me about the books I
read during lunch. They were sly, vaguely insulting questions, followed by
ribald laughter that I usually ignored. One day I was reading a Harlequin
Blaze. The title referenced adult toys and he had to ask for more
information—so I gave it to him. In frank, but clean, language I described the
plot and the heroine’s sex toy business. He never asked what I was reading
again.

When
possible, ignoring a bully is the best response. Keep in mind that they are
trying to embarrass you. Sharing plots and messy emotional information about
the stories shows you’re not embarrassed. It frequently turns the equation
around and embarrasses them instead. Use with caution.

It’s for
your own good: Years ago, my oldest brother gifted me with a book protector to
hide my romance selections. He was truly perplexed that I didn’t see the need.
This was the 80’s, the height of the bodice rippers when covers were anything
but modest. Buxom heroines in flimsy, tattered gowns clung to shirtless heroes.
And I. Did. Not. Care. I liked science fiction, fantasy, and scandalous
romances and would tell that to anyone who asked. Hiding the covers wouldn’t
have changed my reading habits, but it would’ve added fuel to the belief that I
should be uncomfortable about them. And being uncomfortable, feeling the need
to hide my choices, might’ve influenced which books I picked up at the
bookstore and the library.

There are
going to be situations when it’s not wise to flaunt your favorite books. If the
person belittling you is a boss or your mother-in-law, maybe discretion and
fake Shakespeare covers are the better part of valor. Avoiding an unwinnable
conflict is not a disgrace.

We all have
different tastes, and no one else has to like what you’re reading. Shame and
embarrassment are imposed on us by others and only work if we allow it to be
imposed. When we don’t accept it, when we own our choices, we take that power
away from them.

Like my
favorite heroines, I try to be bold, feisty, and courageous. I will not only
defend my reading choices, I’ll promote them. Romance fiction offers such a
wide variety, I’m convinced that if the detractors ever read a romance, they’d
probably love them, too.